What I Say
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: Saying something and meaning them are two different things.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

**This was**** based on a quote _"A girl asked a guy if he thought she was pretty ..."_**

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**What I Say**  
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Does she not know what she was doing to me?

How could she not realize that by sitting so close to me, I was being intoxicated by her sweet, seductive scent of freshly made pancakes and luscious maple syrup and pine trees in the winter?

Didn't she see that by tucking her hair behind her ear she was simply revealing her pretty face even more, leaving me captivated and hypnotized even more?

Why couldn't she realize that whenever she sighed, her black eyelashes fluttered prettily and illuminated her eyes of sunset lavender until I was lost in them?

Canada. Darling, dear Canada. The one who even now could still steal my breath away and leave me hoping for more.

How my heart ached for her. To let her know.

But alas, it was frustrating. I had imagined the scenario more than a thousand times and I continued to get the same answer.

How should I approach her to tell her?

It was hard to get close to her, with America always flitting and flirting with her and England hovering always nearby. And if those two weren't with her, either Cuba, Netherlands or Prussia would be around her, smiling, teasing, talking.

She doesn't know about the jealousy and envy that would burn in my chest whenever I see her with another man. She doesn't know how I wish to swat those flies away and swipe her up in my arms and hold her and never let go. She doesn't know that every time when I try to intervene, _something _or_ someone_ (blaming England and America would be appropriate) would happen and I would never get the chance.

She doesn't know how I wish to touch her fair skin, run my fingers over the cool goosebumps of her arms, feel her strands of gold flow through my fingertips, drown in the depths of her purple eyes, sway to the melody of her voice and taste her lips against mine.

And I feared that she would never know.

On this day, I sat outside, bathing in the sunlight, inhaling the sweet scent of roses. Absently, I was wondering if I should send some to Canada. But I stopped and smiled sadly. A few roses could not compete with the thousands of tulips that Netherlands sent to Canada every year.

As it would happen, said object of my thoughts appeared. And yet again for the umpteenth time, I could feel my heart flutter lightly in my chest at the very sight of Canada.

" Hello, France. What are you doing here?" she asked, her pretty voice as soft and carefree as a spring breeze.

_Thinking about you_, I lazily thought. " Nothing, _ma chérie_," I said out loud instead. " Have you come to keep me company?" I batted my eyelashes at her teasingly, causing her cheeks to redden. I could barely contain how cute she looked.

" I was wondering if I could ask you something," she mumbled, turning redder by the minute.

If only she knew how she adorably resembled a juicy, plump tomato at the moment. " Of course," I beamed at her. " Anything you want,_ ma chérie_. I am yours to command."

And I spoke no words more honest and true than that.

Canada continued to play with a stray strand from her dress, fiddling with it, as if struggling to find the right words to say. I could only patiently wait for her. Finally, her lips pressed adamantly in a tight line (_just like when she charged during World War I_, I absently thought), she turned towards me with a shy but determined gaze.

" D-do you like me?" she spoke in a single quick, sudden breath.

There was a pause. I was taken back. I didn't expect for Canada to beat me to _the_ question. But now, in this single, perfect moment, everything was placed in the palm of my hand. She willingly and freely offered herself to me and I could easily take her now and claim her as mine. All I needed to do was say "yes". Every inch in my body screamed at me to tell her the truth, but instead, an ugly and foreign word tumbled out of my mouth.

" No."

I could hear her breath hitched and she blinked her eyes to hurriedly rid them of unshed tears. And I never felt more disgusted with myself.

" Then – then, you don't think I'm pretty?"

Again, I swallowed nothing but dry air into my parched throat. " No, I don't," my voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

The glassy look in her eyes was almost unbearable to watch. I feared that if she spoke right then, the trembling of her bottom lip would prevent her from doing so. However, when she continued on, she spoke in a clear and steady voice.

" If I walked away right now, would you come after me?"

I closed my eyes, hiding my pain from her. _Please no more, ma chérie_, I silently pleaded. I wasn't sure how much more I could take. " No," I finally said, forcing the bitter words through my clenched teeth. " I would not."

Her golden hair shielded her eyes from my view and yet I suspected with a dreadful despair that they must be filled with tears. When she looked at me next however, she was smiling cheerfully as she always had and it was as if she was in the most pleasant mood. " I understand, France," Canada said happily. It was too fake to have anyone fooled. " I'm sorry. I must have been bothering you." She stood up, still with the fake cheery smile. " I guess I'll see you around then."

She was walking, walking away from me. I could almost hear her quiet sobs as her heart broke. Just as mine did.

Without even thinking, I reached out and grabbed her wrist. With the force of my grip, she was suddenly spun towards me. As expected, I could see the tears staining her cheeks, her eyes wide in confusion and surprise. " France - ?" she stuttered out.

" I don't like you," I breathed out, cutting her off, knowing my heart just might burst in the tension. I had kept this inside of me for far too long. " I don't like you because ... because I _love_ you."

When she only gazed at me with a stunned look, I continued. I no longer had control over my mouth and heart. And I had no desire to curb them.

" And no, I don't think you are pretty." I shook my head, my hair swaying fiercely in the movement. My grip on her shoulders intensified. " Because I think you are _beautiful_. And if you walked away right now, I wouldn't come after you. Because I would _die_ right now, right here at this very spot if you do."

There. I said it. I spilled everything that I am and all that I was to her. I had nothing left, nothing to hide. Here before her, I opened myself to her and I was stripped to the bone for her final answer.

The expression on her face was blank, emotionless and solemn. Her colored eyes searched me deeply, as if trying to seek out any lies or deceit in my words. I could feel the sweat sticking to my forehead and the palms of my hands as I waited. My heart beat rapidly and hard against my chest, so loudly that I feared she would hear it.

Then, like the sun appearing after a rainy day, a smile broke over Canada's lovely face and my heart lifted.

" You should have said something earlier," she said with a mischievous grin.

Unable to stop myself, I enveloped her in a hug, spinning her around and around, kissing her so hard and fierce, until we were both laughing and flying, content to be in each other's arms.


End file.
